Midnight Flower
by Oniksu
Summary: "The blacksmith's son vows to win the heart of the girl who bought the iron sword."
1. PROLOGUE

**Cahill Island Tales: MIDNIGHT FLOWER (39 Clues)**

_**By Oniksu**_

_**Summary:**_** "The blacksmith's son vows to win the heart of the girl who bought the iron sword."**

**Fantasy/Romance | Rated K+**

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

The sunset was bright and vivid from the west wing garden of the Madrigal palace. Birds glided just above the majestic cathedral. The lake was peaceful, reflecting the orange sky on its vast crystal surface. Princess Hope sat on the marble bench quietly, her arms folded on her chest. The flowers on her feet tickled her as they swayed softly in the breeze. Her gaze rested upon the overlooking view of the town. She grinned at the sight of playing children, hiding behind the bushes and the tall trees. The busy townspeople laughed, smiled and sang as they did their work and didn't care about their heavy load and the crowded streets. The scenery made her heart feel empty. She wanted to meet and make friends with all of her subjects, but her dream—and she wasn't even sure if it was a dream—seemed beyond her extent.

For almost all her life, she had lived under the Lucian Princess Isabel's shadow. Her eyes were intimidating and keen. Her smile, which supposedly concealed a plethora of abstract words, sent a terrible chill down her spine.

Hope was twelve and she hadn't even gained her crown. She had never won a single Princess Competition, despite the handfuls she had joined. She was a princess who didn't deserve her subjects' trust, she always told herself. She would probably just let them down any day.

She shook her head to escape from the thought. Her skin felt hot and moist. She wrapped her arms around herself. She had never found a perfect time to think of something to change all that . . . until now. A perfectly sketched plan. To prove herself.

And she had less than three hours.

The princess looked at her frail hands. She picked up the cotton robe on her lap and put it on. She stood up to fix her leather overcoat, which underneath it she wore white chemise lined with gray pearls and beads. She brushed her black silk pants using her hands. She pulled the hood over her head. Grabbing her small satchel, she sighed and ran down the hill where the garden stood. She hopped over the brick fence and whistled. A brown-spotted horse with a golden mane galloped towards her.

"Good boy, Benjamin." Hope chuckled as she inserted a hand into the satchel. She stroked the horse's precious mane. She tossed an apple to Benjamin who immediately jumped to catch it with his mouth. The princess pointed to the marketplace. After swallowing the fruit, the horse dashed upon her command.

* * *

The marketplace became a bit more peaceful. The sun had almost set and the sky's color was fading from orange to light purple. Hope dismounted her horse and walked the stone streets. Benjamin followed her, tapping his hooves softly. She tilted her head and searched for "The Blacksmith's Haven"—a weapon shop. In a few moments, the owners will be fixing things up to close their stores. She hastened to find it, walking briskly past several people, praying that they wouldn't recognize her under the cloak.

She squeezed through a few alleys before she spotted it. The weapon shop had a very ornate exterior. A knight's armor was displayed beside the entrance door, complete with a plumed hat and a bronze breastplate. Lanterns hung from either side of the door. On its walls were leather strings and chains. They also became a canvass for a collage of emblems and medals, those with images of wolves, keys, leaves and such. The princess left Benjamin tied beside a wooden post and gave him two more apples. She glanced at the crowd, trying to act as unruffled as she could. She walked to the weapon shop's heavy door. Hoping that the shopkeeper still accepts humble visitors, she pushed it open.

"Hello, is anyone around? I came here looking for a sword . . . a simple one, maybe," Hope spoke softly.

Its interior was poorly lit and relied only on the faint glow of candlelight. They small fires flickered in the wind continuously. Hope clutched her satchel and hugged it close to her chest. She walked slowly and examined the room, running her fingers across the swords strapped to the wall. She heard a floor creak, accompanied by the ringing of a bell.

"Hey, don't just touch that!" Someone called.

Hope turned around to see a young boy. He was tall and slim, almost her age. His hair was brown and cropped. He wore a dark green long-sleeved shirt and a brown vest. His boots seemed worn out, covered in scratches, grass and mud. His canvass pants were the same, all torn and old. He held a lantern with his one hand, which illuminated the timid yet sharp expression on his face.

"Excuse me, are you the shopkeeper?" Hope asked politely.

"Uh, I'm her son," the boy said.

"Oh," Hope said, smiling. "Well, it would be my pleasure if you would, um, show me a versatile sword? Something I could wield?"

The boy put his lantern up to show the wall of swords to the princess. There were black swords made from volcanic rocks, there were silver swords, there were also ones made of pure crystal. "I mean you no offense but, you seem too young to wield these swords. My father is a very proficient blacksmith. He made this for _trained_ warriors. I say you should try a basic wooden sword to begin with. Also, I don't know what you mean by 'versatile,' but take your time to find one . . . if you like."

Hope flinched. She felt like he was reading her mind. "Umm, I've handled these things before. And sure, I'll just look for one myself."

The shopkeeper's son guided her as she picked through the different blades. "How about that one?" She pointed to the iron sword with an emerald on the center of the hilt. The boy released the buckle and let it fall to his hands. He swung it and held it up, as if showing Hope its weight. He handed it to the princess, who gulped as she held the stone handle. Her hand jerked, but she tried to keep balance.

The boy raised an eyebrow. And then he smiled.

"I-I think I'll just take this one," Hope insisted, her arm still twitching.

"You sure?"

The princess nodded. And then she dug for a piece of pink cloth in her satchel. "Well, I have nothing to pay you except for this." The cloth glimmered gorgeously in the dim light. It was thick and warm, almost like a blanket. Its one edge was studded with small topaz stones. "It's my very special linen."

The boy's smile slowly disappeared. "What?" He froze and shook his head nervously. "I'm afraid I can't take that. It looks too valuable."

"You'll have to," Hope whispered.

A sudden realization struck the boy. He scratched his head. His expression became crooked and the tips of his ears turned red. "No, I just—I'm sorry if I was . . . disrespectful." He bowed his head and shyly looked up.

Hope looked at his eyes sternly and put a finger to her lips as she placed the pink cloth on his hand. "Don't tell anyone I was here, huh? I just came by to get a hold of this." She held up the iron sword. "Thank you, by the way."

The blacksmith's son knelt before her. "You're welcome. Umm . . . we—I mean, I—uh, was very pleased to have you over here, P-Princess Hope." Hope saw him bite his lower lip.

Hope giggled. The candlelight glowed brilliantly. The sword reflected a crisp image of her blushing self.

"I have to go now. They might kill me if I don't get back soon."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Aiyah! Arthur/Hope is such a lovely couple (it sucks that their relationship is seldom mentioned in the books, even just their background will be cool).


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Yes, Arthur? What is it that you need?" The smiling clerk said. She tapped the wooden counter and made a loud thudding sound that caused the boy's eyes to widen.

He shook his head and blinked. With a sigh, he faced her. "My father wanted the ore today, Mahrzie. Do you have it already?" Arthur asked, biting on a small cupcake. Its bright orange color paired deliciously with its sweet and savory taste. He hadn't been able to eat such luxury in quite a while. His skinny figure showed through his green shirt and patched pants. The cloth Hope had given him was draped on his waist. He thought that maybe had gotten several stares from the citizens because of this rather than his very tattered appearance. His father didn't know that the princess herself dropped by to give him a gift, and Arthur knew he would be furious if he did.

Being his father's assistant always left him famished, and the heavy load he carried everyday made him even hungrier. With his one hand, he held a bag containing eggs, a loaf of bread and a flask of milk. He had gone to the remote farm an hour ago to fetch their breakfast, and he still wasn't fully awake. His eyes kept closing constantly and his cheeks felt warm. By running the same errands from his father every morning, he had become used to it, but his apparent lack of sleep had gotten the best of him.

"Of course!" Mahrzie snapped her fingers and headed for the storage. The clanking of metal rang throughout the shop as she shuffled with the assortment of items kept inside. She came back holding a heavy sack marked with the seal of Madrigal mining.

Arthur continued eating the cake, eyes half-closed.

The shopkeeper stared at him. "A flarecake? Where did you get that, boy?"

"As usual."

"You need to stop that. Stealing won't get you anywhere!"

"There's too many of these so I thought they wouldn't notice. In fact, when the baker saw it, he picked the entire basket up like nothing happened." He munched on the last bit of the cupcake. "I was going to get some blueberry buns for my mother . . . but then I saw some guards walk to the shop, so I ran. They had these burning feathers on their helms."

The clerk squinted. "Anyway, the materials came just last night. You don't know how hard it is these days to get some ore from the mines. But we are still lucky, because bronze and gold we are rich in." She winked as she came back handed Arthur a sack of ores. "Is that enough?"

Arthur shrugged. "Should be. I mean, how much ore do you need to make a sword, anyway?"

Both of them fell silent. The mysterious grin on Mahrzie's face disappeared slowly. She brushed back her shoulder-length black hair with her fingers. She turned around, facing a small shelf. She pulled one file out of the topmost rack and read it, dissatisfied with herself. "I knew it. I knew they would come today to get the palace decorations. And the canopy has not arrived yet! Oh my." She slapped her forehead. "Those men you saw? They came with the Grand Duke to see the preparations for the ball."

The blacksmith's son lifted the massive sack. He hung the bag of food on his shoulder and dragged the other on the floor. "And they are from . . . ?" he asked.

"Lucian Kingdom, obviously," Mahrzie replied. "Now, I have to pick them up from the other store. By the way, boy, tell your father that I need the payment by tomorrow. Be careful on your way home," she said, waving goodbye.

"I will. And thank you." The young one felt a bump on his throat. He knew his father would not be able to pay yet. He wanted to turn around and negotiate with her, but he dared not waste his effort. Time was pure gold for Mahrzie.

Arthur strolled out of the shop, his grip on the parcel tight. He walked briskly on the stone streets, caressing his grumbling stomach. The rattling of the guards' armor mixed with the energetic conversations that filled the marketplace. He hid behind a stack of crates when he heard them approach his direction. Among the ones in iron, he recognized the woman standing in the middle. Her dark hair, stern eyes, brown suit and shimmering belt.

Her gaze switched to him.

It felt as if it was slowly reducing him to ash. What if she had seen him earlier in the bakery? He was afraid that he would get thrown in the dungeons and be sentenced (it was probably because of exhaustion that he thought of this, Arthur reflected). But either way, he would not let that happen. The woman stepped closer to him, craning her neck. Arthur could not tell where she was looking. He planted one foot firmly on the stone, then started pacing backward. The bag he carried weighed him down a little. He pumped his legs and began to run when he heard the unsettling sound her iron boots made follow him. He was sure that she wasn't speeding.

Arthur looked back and saw her figure dwindle from the distance between them. His load shook and bumped against the walls. A vendor yelled at him for kicking away his fortunately empty bucket a few meters. He entered an alley to sit down and check on his bags. He could not catch his breath. He grasped on the pink cloth around his waist. It was warm and soft, as if it was instilled with the princess's care.

Little did the boy know that it was what caught the ever-so-famous Dame Nataliya's eye.

* * *

If there was one thing that would destroy a princess's life unknowingly, it would be decision, Hope thought. The desire to overthrow the most talented girl on the island, the recurring feeling of disgrace. She was confused about what to do. Transient emotions came with a price—usually an unexpected ending. She could not calculate the myriad possibilities of failure, yet the narrow path to triumph led to a blurred light. However, she wasn't ready to give up. Yesterday, she went to town to look for an iron sword. She had taken the first step, and so her burden had lessened. A little.

The princess sat in the library, daydreaming. Her lips were a thin line quivering in uncertainty. Sunlight gently entered through the windows, showering sparks on the delicate violet curtains. The marble floors were polished, every grain of dirt taken care of. Bookshelves stood in magnificent rows, each containing a variety of books, from new to old. Tables, with their metal frames and glass tops, glistened like large mirrors.

Crossing her arms, she leaned back on her chair. The second step sat right in front of her—a heavy leather bound book coated in thick dust. She knew not how long it had been since it was used. A rusty aroma hung in the air as she opened it and scanned its contents. Hope ran her fingers on the paper, all torn and stained with what seemed to be droplets of blood, if not any natural product of its old age.

In four days, there would be a ball hosted by the Madrigals. Royals and townspeople alike were invited. Afterwards would be the Prince Competition (although Hope always thought it was pointless, since there were only two princes in the island), then the Princess Competition. Dreadful. She remembered her recent competition. The memory fluttered recklessly in her mind.

_The Ekaterina princess took her faerie form and summoned a flock of birds from a flash of lightning. The Lucian Isabel—that intimidating girl!—weaved a bouquet of roses using her flames. She threw the flowers upward as they shot to the sky as multicolored fireworks. And I just . . . played the stupid harpsichord. Honestly, _Princess _Hope, what is wrong with you?_

Amazing, she thought. Just amazing. She always acted like it didn't matter, but the truth is . . . every time she found a moment for herself, she would always encounter the same reminiscences. They had been there since she was seven. The princess's thoughts switched.

_The Sacred Swordance_.

Every Madrigal heard about that legend, though most had but the faintest hint of what it is. Hope knew that is was not only a dance, but also a ritual. It was used to call upon magic—whether destructive or curative, nobody was sure. According to most stories, one must use a stone studded sword to garner the said force, thus completely encrusting the weapon with power. Once the sword was "charged," the dance would begin. What she believed would happen next was obviously dangerous. Since her knowledge was limited, she hoped that the one in front of her had the answers.

_That will never happen again. I will attempt to do one of the great noble arts. Though it is a legend, I know it will help me regain honor._

She tried to breathe in, only to get her throat burned by the foul hint of iron coming from the book. It tasted like the doubt, the fear inside her that moment.

_I do not wish to do this. But if I have not gained a crown yet when I turn thirteen, surely the other kingdoms will think of me as another disgrace to Cahill. I will not let that happen. Oh dear, I've never been struck by such temptation! To do something that has never been done by a princess, despite the risk. I do not want to die doing it; I suppose it's just . . ._

_Oh yes . . . revenge. That's it. That must be what's making me do it. To finally defeat Isabel is a lifelong dream come true. To show the others that I come with sword and shield in hand, ready to fight—_

Hope's thoughts came to a momentary halt. She gasped, clutching the pages with her stiff fingers.

_Am I starting to sound bloodthirsty . . ?_

The princess shook her head. She leaned closer to the book and started to flip through pages once again.

_For the townspeople, for my friends . . . for Mother._

* * *

**Author's Note:** OH MY GOSH. Four pages on Word? That's legit. XD Slow update as usual. But I'll try to fix that. :/ If there are some careless mistakes here and there (like small spelling/sentence errors), please kindly point them out, I'd appreciate it. :D Thanks! MOON FACE BABY.


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